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Edwin staggered to Raviel’s room that now lost its owner.
Nothing had changed compared to six years ago. Even the bedding and curtains, chosen according to Raviel's taste of modest living, remained in the same colors he remembered.
When entering the room, he used to find Raviel sitting at the desk by the window. She lifted her head to look at him amid the piles of documents, her face tired. When he peeked in with a slight push of the door, she would call his name.
“Eddy? What is it?”
He always struggled to find words as there was nothing in particular. While he fumbled for a reason, Raviel quietly observed him and waited.
Edwin later realized those moments were Raviel's way of doing her best despite her own lack of time for herself.
The butler had said it was just a light cold. It was supposed to be just minor symptoms at first. She should have rested, but she was too busy to even see a doctor.
